'Ourself Behind Ourself - concealed...':  Ethereal whispers from the dark side

By Marina Warner

 

 

9 July 2001

 

In one of Emily Dickinsonıs luminous, shrewd lyrics, written around l863, she writes about confronting an uncanny alter ego; presciently, she locates this self, not in the exterior world of ghosts and spectres,  but within:  inside the mind, inside the self.  This inner spectre lurks far more disturbingly, she writes, than the phantoms of church or graveyard:

One need not be a Chamber ­ to be Haunted ­

One need not be a House ­

The Brain has Corridors ­ surpassing

Material Place ­  Š

 

Far safer, through an Abbey gallop,

The Stones aıchase ­

Than Unarmed, oneıs aıself encounter ­

Š

Ourself behind Ourself, concealed ­

Should startle most ­ Š

 

The double ­ the self behind the self, concealed - haunts fantasy literature and fairy tales; its spectral presence  moves eerily through several marvellous tales of E.T.A. Hoffmann and Edgar Allan Poe, and inhabits the large and various fiction of  possession, from the prodigious frenzy of James Hoggıs novel of l824, Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified Sinner, to the cult classic that inspired the film Blade Runner ,Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick.  Since Hogg wrote his extraordinary study of  religious fanaticism and derangement,  figures of multiple identity, of shared and scattered personal  memories, of  zombie thefts of soul and spirit, of out-of-the-body wanderings and split existences have passed from the margins of literature through the main doors of the canon, inspiring plots in writers as diverse as R.L Stevenson, Lewis Carroll (not only the Alice books, but the later, neglected two-volume Sylvie and Bruno ), Margaret Atwood, Toni Morrison, and Ben Okri with his abuki or spirit children protagonists.

Different theories have been offered for the perceived disintegration of unified personality: in May 2001,  on the radio, on the Today programme of the BBC,  a scientist attending a conference near London was interviewed; he was putting forward the theory that transplanted organs could carry the memory of their former dwelling place, that is,  the body of the person from whom they had been removed.  He told a story about a little girl who had received the heart of a murder victim, and  had then been able to recall the circumstances of her donorıs death,  and identify the murderer.  He called this theory Œcellular memoryı, and he is upholding it against the views of almost all transplant doctors and patients, who have not reported such examples before.  That Œcellular memoryı can be entertained at all ­ and on a mainstream prime time radio programme - shows how deeply metamorphosed  our ideas of person and self have been since the unique, individual body-soul integrity  that I was brought up to hold, in my Catholic girlhood.

But cellular memory is only one hypothesis, among many, and Tony Oursler has long been fascinated by the proliferating versions of human consciousness, of its powers and connections. Heıs not offering a solution, let alone a dogma or orthodoxy; the effect of his muttering automata and dummies and dolls leaves rather an eddying sense of indeterminacy, vagueness, mystery.  His figures are animated, sometimes performed by single, existing individuals. But these Œeffigiesı ­ his preferred term -  also act as technological transmitter/receivers/channelers. Theyıre ventriloquised from a distance, through instruments that Œbeam them upı and belong to the throng of various media that human ingenuity has devised to probe the invisible, the inaudible, the intangible.

First the telescope, then the microscope, revealed unimaginable universes crowded and teeming with life in dimensions beyond the reach of the naked eye; but it wasnıt until the invention of aural probes and wave detectors that the invisible air itself became a seething Babel, moving to a complex interplay of forces and signals. This is Oursler territory: beyond the spectacle and the scopic into the hum of the impalpable powers that govern space, time and our living presence within their constraints. From the invention of the wireless to the development of television,  the air grew ever more crowded,  yielding up all manner of mysteries to  new instruments devised to detect and inventory its messages, which werenıt presenting as mimic or figural images, but as noise ­ coded in waves, in photons, in pulses.  The music of the spheres turned out to be tuned rather differently than Pythagoras or Plato  and their successors had imagined.  But these nineteenth and twentieth century discoveries continued to be bent through the lens of metaphysics. Tony Oursler works in this borderland, where natural and supernatural meet; through his curiosity about and long-acquired knowledge of such endeavours in this field, he  has developed a profound, original and imaginative relationship to them. As his Time Line reveals, mesmeric theories  were woven into concepts of electricity; similarly,  the discovery of of X-rays, facilitated by William Crookesıs experiments with vacuums and established  by            Rontgen in l895), the identification of radio waves and the subsequent invention of the wireless, of telegraphy, of the telephone, produced  a fevered - and delighted -  search to penetrate the  unseen: the channels of communication through the ether, presented themselves in potentia as deliriously numberless; they became intertwined with the physical  possibility of moving objects at a distance by finding some vehicle analogous to radio waves. It was in the l890s,  that the prefix tele-, used in so many optical and other probes,  was also attached to tele-pathy, by the philosopher Frederic Myers, and to terms coined by the Society for Psychical Research, of which he was a founder, such as telekinesis.

Itıs difficult from our hooked up, www vantage point today to imagine how exciting,fascinating, and extreme seemed the possibilities that these instruments opened up for their first users. The new media left the trace of their passage: indeed their activity became legible only through such traces. Radio waves could not be grasped by the human senses: only the effects of the new methods of transmission , as the mark of a needle quivering on a drum as the taps came through, as the translated and disincarnate voices from the radio set.  Visible verification surrendered its hegemony  to other warranties of presence, sonic, and haptic.     Material impressions of the new mediaıs work were in high demand. In the absence of natural sensory means to verify the principle at work , a dependence on second order technological proof of  hidden energy arose, as in the photograph or the X-ray plate. The extension of the word medium itself , in the early l850s, to someone with paranormal powers, reveals the parallelism perceived between the vehicle - the ether -   and its products. The new technologies offered a model for understanding that was extended to phenomena as yet beyond the reach of scientific empiricism.  William James put his finger on the similarity of the scientific and spiritualist experiments, as perceived at the time when he wrote that  phenomena like automatic writing were Œinstruments of research, reagents like litmus paper or the galvanometer for revealing what would otherwise be hidden.ı

 

Art of the Unexplained

Tony Oursler is one of several contemporary artists who have annexed the latest instruments of global communications to explore the relationship between individual consciousness and the noise of the universes and to see more deeply into the convergence of  physics  and experiences of the psyche. Susan Hiller has been working this vein since the video installation Belshazzarıs Feast of l983-4., which featured extraterrestrial and paranormal whisperings and visitations reported by viewers as emanating from a television set. More recently, with Wild Talents and  Psi Girls  she has collected incidents of unexplained phenomena, of telekinesis, spontaneous combustion, yogic flying from films dramatising Œspecial childrenı with powers, such as           . Fr Witness, she set aside the thrillers and crawlers of supernatural fantasy for another popular genre: true life stories of sightings,  of UFOS and angels and other phenomena.  The comfortable snigger of the skeptical mind was no longer any kind of appropriate response to Witness. The piece left the visitor stranded among mysteries that raise fundamental questions about the status of experience and human sense perception: the very word, reality, begins to demand inverted commas, or, as in the Lacanian usage of Slavoj Zizek, the Real becomes not only "Real," but means the very opposite of its normal usage. The symbolic haunts the absence of meaning and invests the fantastic with a new reality. Hillerıs chorus of testimonies to weird and wonderful happenings and visions reported this "Reality" in her witnessesı minds, and accorded it the seriousness and value of data obtained through whatıs thought of as objective means‹the media of modern communications. Nothing can be trusted;  or, anything and everything can be.

It may even be becoming a trend:  a new devlopment of the surrealist interest in chance and imagination, in fantasy and the poetics of reason ­ not only of unreason.  The art historian Roger Cardinal recently selected a show in Paris, called Art Spirite Mediumique Visionnaire Messages dıOutre Monde, which included several well-known Outsider Artists, such as Madge Gill and Raphael Lomme, but also expanded to embrace channelers -  painting with Œbrushes made of cometıs hairı, as one has  expressed it in her autobiography.   The performance artist Scanner has begun some psycho-geographical  work catching ghost presences in city streets. (check)  There is also an archive on line of ŒArt After Deathı: which comprises interviews with artists in the afterlife conducted by spirit mediums.  The first CDs features The Countess of Castiglione.  Yves Klein will speak next. The website address is www.doublearchive.com .

This interest of course relates to Spiritualist experiments of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries but it seems to be shedding its embarrassing undertones to take its place as part of  the urgent need for the Œre-enchantment of the worldı.   The interest of artists does constitute a revival and a turn towards respectability of a fringe, crackpot pursuit; this shift results, I feel, from the larger question with which artists are engaging: who or what is a person?

Tony Oursler is compelled by the twinned mysteries of consciousness and communications technology; in taking the distinctive step of freeing the image from the video monitor or sonic device,  he has truly magnified the eerie atmosphere that his cast of disembodied messengers cast about them.    Indoor pieces, such as  Stone Blue (l995) and  Insomnia (1996) include  floating, distorted faces speechifying and rambling in Ourslerıs characteristic post-Dada technobabble. They extend into a metaphysical dimension  the existential riddle posed by cartoon characters, who exist only in Œpicture-fleshı, walking talking apparitions, possessing no referent in the actual world : as Jessica Rabbitıs wife says in the film, Who Killed Roger Rabbit? ŒIım not bad, Iım just drawn that way.ı,  thus uttering as a person from within a person who does not , indeed cannot, exist. The very irony of the filmıs title  draws attention to the paradox: a cartoon character canıt be killed because a figment cannot be alive.  But cartoon animation increases the weirdness of this state of living non-being: such figures are representations of  something that could never have being, unlike say Hamlet or Ophelia.

Ourslerıs work with dummies and automata  and projections realises the point where spooks and spectres coincide with the phantoms of film, LEDS, and other digital means. A recent video work by   Philippe Parreno and Pierre Huyghe   showed a video cartoon character from a Japanese catalogue of off the shelf Manga materials, specially  Œdesigned to join any kind of storyı. She was offered for sale but failed to find a buyer who would Œ fill her with imaginary materialı in the Manga market: the artists bought her instead, and  in the artistsı  video,  she speaks of her failure to enter life as a figure of entertainment; the piece is called ŒNo ghost just a shellı .  By speaking the first person, annlee, as she is called, comes into being, and is used to enunciate the paradoxical non-being of the virtual person:  ŒI am a productı she says. ŒA product freed from the market place I was supposed to fill, drop dead in a comic book. I will never forget, I had just a name and an ID.ı

As Donald Britton pointed out in one of the few trenchant essays on the conventions of Disney fantasy, Œ [This] cartoon reality convinces us to perceive a character called Donald Duck as no more and no less a living, functioning agent in the world he inhabits, than say, Sam Spade is in his. But Sam Spade exists in a different relation to life than does Donald Duck. Sam Spade is a representation of a biological human being who could be alive in our world, or a world similar to our own, whereas Donald Duck could never be biologically alive. Š Donald Duck is, for want of a better term, immortal; having never been alive, he can never die.ı  Analogously, whereas an eighteenth century automata mimicked real life and inspires delight, wonder and fear through the disturbing convincingness of its lifelikeness,     Ourslerıs permutations of the effigyıs possibilities produce their peculiar frisson because the conditions of life are discarded, its norms exploded:  huge eyeballs disconnected from any body or person, weep and laugh,  on their own, as if alive, limbless, limp, tiny rag dolls blossom with huge speaking heads.

With The Influence Machine, Tony Oursler has moved on from the historical development of automata and audioanimatronics, to work another kind of conjuring the illusion of life. In this installation, he revels in the possibilities of another species of Œimmortalı created by mechanical illusion: the ghost. .

The Influence Machine dramatises spirit visions and visits:  Oursler  draws on existing accounts of messages transmitted from other worlds and departs from conventional orthodoxy about mind-body unity, and space-time confines. In this outdoor urban phantasmagoria,  the artist projected, onto trembling foliage and interlaced branches, and high up onto the surrounding buildings of an urban park/garden (Soho Square in London), looming, vast close-ups of out-of-body messengers, men and women with stories to tell of wanderings in other worlds.  They describe out of body states and encounters that defy conventional physics.  Oursler projected, on one wall of the square  a huge fist rapping, as in the first Spiritualist séances, in the l840s in Rochester, when the Fox sisters reported ghosts knocking for admittance in a kind of  performance of morse code. In the central garden/park, the artist beamed up wraiths and mediums on to the trees and even on to smoke, so that they dissolved and expanded, loomed and shrank,  vaporised and materialised ,  in a sequence of hypnotic anamorphoses.

The spectacle was inspired by the earliest Gothic popular  entertainment, the phantasmagorias of the late eighteenth century, invented in Paris by a brilliant, Belgian showman, Etienne-Gaspard Robertson, who was born in 1763. Soon  after the Terror, in the same period when the waxworks Chamber of Horrors were beginning to draw crowds as well, Robertson rented a convent to stage his illusions and terrify the wits out of this public and thrill them with delight at the same time: this was the new, mass entertainment of the age of heavy industry and political bloodshed, and the apogee of romantic individualism.

The phantasmagoria, or commercial light show, first became a popular outing in 1799, and played to packed houses in Paris for six years; Robertsonıs colleague ­ and possible plagiarist ­ ŒPhilidorı began his version in l801, and travelled widely around Europe, including London and Edinburgh. In his engaging memoirs, Mémoires récréatifs, scientifiques et anecdoctiques dıun physicien-aéronaute, published in Paris in l830, the great technical innovator, Robertson,  described his early attempts to become a magician and conjure devils for real. After these failed, he wrote: Œ I finally adopted a very wise policy: since the devil refused to communicate to me the science of creating prodigies, I would apply myself to creating devils, and I would have only to wave my wand, to force all the infernal cortège to be seen in the light. My habitation became a true Pandemonium.ı

He made some brilliant technical innovations, and Oursler in all consciousness of his legacy,  has borrowed and adapted many of them for The Influence Machine. Robertson invented two really important things:  he realised that if you projected on to gauzes, and furthermore waxed the screen, you could create  a kind of luminous, translucent  look. He also experimented  with projecting slides onto this newly shining screen, and discovered that if you blackout the background, the illusion of a spectre floating of its own free will in the room would become much more intense. He then, and this is in the 1790s in Paris, rented the convent of the Capucines, of which of course the inmates had been dispersed by the terror, and held his phantasmagoria, the pioneering proto-cinema, in which skeletons, bleedings nuns and white ghosts walked.

Another great innovation  ­ apart from the blackening of the background of the screen and the surroundings of the figure, and the luminescence of the screen ­ was that he realised that if he put the projector on rollers, he would be able to plunge towards the audience, which would make the apparition loom suddenly much larger.

This caused absolute pandaemonium at the time. When you do go to the square, youıll see that Robertsonıs other great idea ­ apart from the idea of pulling away the projector ­ was to project onto smoke.

One of the marvellous effects in The Influence Machine involves the image appearing and speaking in smoke where  it comes and goes, along the whole length of a beam. Thereıs no loss of focus, so the phantom appears to hang in the air in different places, all the time uttering one of Tony Ourslerıs collages of inner hauntings.

Robertsonıs show began with a speech: ŒCitizens and gentlemen,ı he would declare, ŒIt is Ša useful spectacle for a man to discover the bizarre effects of the imagination when it combines force and disorder; I wish to speak of the terror which shadows, symbols, spells, the occult works of magic inspireŠı He then ended with a flourish, ŒI have promised that I will raise the dead and I will raise them.ı   Teeming with devils, ghosts, witches, succubi, skeletons, mad women in white, bleeding nuns and what he termed Œambulant phantomsı, Robertson Œs repertoire offers a vivid census of the population deemed native to the imagination. He showed the shades of the dead in the Underworld, the temptation of St Antony by alluring hoydens, witches preparing for the Sabbath and flying off on broomsticks, while the moon turned the colour of blood.

The phantasmagoria, emerging in post-Revolutionary Paris, specialized in the terrors of the sublime, according to contemporary taste; many Shakespearean scenes were dramatized, possibly influenced by the prints in Boydellıs gallery. Banquoıs ghost, and the three witches were summoned, alongside other figures evoked in the work of contemporary artists like Henry Fuseli and William Blake: his staging of ŒThe Dream or the Nightmare A Young woman dreams of fantastic picturesı owes a clear debt to Fuseliıs famous painting, much disseminated in a variety of prints. Robertson was a skilful and sensitive painter, as well, or employed artists who could interpret his ideas. An image of the face of Danton, recently beheaded by the guillotine, would float in the rising vapour above a picture of his casket.

The effect on the public of such spectacles was dramatic, and anticipates very closely the excitement ‹ and panic ‹ that greeted the first screenings of films proper, as in the famous case of the Lumière Brothersı advancing train. Robertsonıs spectacular assaults on his suggestible audience can be gauged from contemporaneous engravings: the phantoms loomed large and close, and swelled as the projectionist suddenly pulled the projector back from the screen, or manifested themselves wreathed in smoke and floating on clouds or even, as in the case of Death with his scythe, appeared to lunge headfirst, scythe at the ready, into the throng.

One Londoner gave a lively account,  in the journal Portfolio ,  of ŒThe Red Woman of Berlinı, who was summoned at the climax of the imitative show put on by Philidor  in l825. The rollers allowed the projectionist to move the image forward towards the screen so that, growing suddenly larger, figures like the Bleeding Nun, or Death, or the Red Woman would appear to rush at the spectators as if to grab them : ŒThe effect was electrical, and scarcely not be imagined from the effect of a written description. I was myself one of an audience during the first week of its exhibition, when the hysterical scream of a few ladies in the first seats of the pit induced a cry of "lightsı from their immediate friends, which it not being possible instantly to comply with, increased into an universal panic, in which the male portion of the audience, who were ludicrously the most vociferous, were actually commencing a scrambling rush to reach the doors of the exit, when the operator, either not understanding the meaning of the cry, or mistaking the temper and feeling of an English audience, at this unlucky crisis once more dashed forward the Red Woman. The confusion was instantly at a height which was alarming to the stoutest; the indiscriminate rush to the doors was prevented only by the deplorable state of most of the ladies; the stage was scaled by an adventurous few, the Red Woman ıs sanctuary violated, the unlucky operatorıs cavern of death profaned, and some of his machinery overturned, before light restored order and something like an harmonious understanding with the cause of alarm.ı

There are two other spectacles that are connected, and developed around the same time as Robertsonıs phantasmagoria. Itıs important that they occurred around the time of  the French Revolution because it really did have an absolute material effect on what people were imagining. Though itıs always hard for us, when weıre living inside our own space and time to see whatıs affecting us, we can learn from what happened 200 years ago, how the turbulence and turmoil of the times leads and shapes what we see as the uncanny and the terrifying.

The two spectacles are the waxwork museum, which grew from funerary rituals honouring and communicating with the dead through sacred funeral effigies of them looking as if they were still alive.  Madame Tussaud of course came to England,  very famously,  to set up her waxwork museum here, in the l820s, and she brought with death masks she had cast in wax from the bodies of the dead as they fell under the guillotine. The connection between the dead and the idea of the effigy was crucial to the figuration of the undead.  The living ghosts of the waxwork museum and the phantasmagorias began to circulate in Europe as entertainment. And they also coincide with Goyaıs great sequence of fantasy images,  the Caprichos,  which opens with the famous engraving, The Dream of Reason Produces Monsters (l797-9).

When Goya  began representing the melancholy brooding of his own imagination, he crystallised a shift from conceiving the imagination as an organ that processes external perceptions to one that summons internal fantasies. The fantastic moves from a higher ‹ or lower -  supernatural world into a world of personal visions. However impalpable or imponderable, divine beings, angels and devils existed in the Christian order of creation, independently of an individualıs imagination. The new rational view that optical phenomena were natural, scientifically produced by human skill in interpretation or staging, had the effect of situating the fantastic in a new, paradoxically modern and wholly unstable habitation in the single mind of a person, in the imagination; it becomes one with the subject or dreamer or melancholic or writer or artistıs vision and it no longer reveals a true if shadowy world beyond this world.

The opposition between fantasy and reason was gaping wider: no amount of scientific demonstrations, analysing the character of physical phenomena, no amount of special pleading by the showman conjuror who laid his art and its tricks before the public, could heal the rift. The objects of fantasy became defined as phantasmagoric, melancholy, terrifying, and at the same time pleasurable in the thrills and shivers they excited; the mindıs eye could see in the dark, and its natural habitation was consequently a low, nocturnal, gloomy place full of ghosts and shades and emanations, the very opposite of the high illuminated halls of reason. This opposition was carried on a spectacular contrast between substance and shadow that the techniques of the phantasmagoria achieved as it made immaterial, insubstantial figures appear vividly present and real; these spectres corresponded as closely as could be instrumentally achieved to the phantoms of the mindıs eye.

So,  while impresarios like Robertson and Madame Tussaud, were perfecting  brilliant,  new technologies to commemorate the departed and make  the dead visible again amongst us,  the spiritual system that had upheld beliefs in the independent and external existence of  ghosts, inhabiting the afterlife, was being undermined. This is what Terry Castle, in her entertaining book The Female Thermometer (l995) ,argues:  that the eighteenth century invented the uncanny.  ŒThe historic Enlightenment internalization of the spectral ‹ Œ she writes, Œthe gradual reinterpretation of ghosts and apparitions as hallucinations, or projections of the mind ‹ introduced a new uncanniness into human consciousness itself.ı

Terrors of the night, spectres and phantoms cease to be thought of as immortal souls of people who are wandering around in hell, or purgatory, or perhaps even in heaven, created by God. They are beginning to be understood, as Goya implies so strongly, as fantasies in the head, what the writer on consciousness Antonio Damasio calls Œthe movie-in-the-brainı.  This is what was going on then and  Goyaıs sleeper, assaulted by demons, remains one of the most marvellous succinct expressions of this turn towards inwardness.  It illuminates communicates the state of being that explains towards why such things still alarm us when we no longer believe in the existence of devils. These fantasies have reality as things our head does to us.

The point of describing this historical shift here is that Tony Ourslerıs The Influence Machine, created in the new millennium,  derives from  a clinically paranoid, disturbed, fragmented concept of human personality. As in its psychoanalytical origins,  it projects extreme and unusual cases of mental disturbance  into the common arena of experience and reads human personality in general in tis anamorphic shadow. The story Oursler tells in The Influence Machine, and in numerous pieces that preceded it, is one of romantic individuality decentred, evacuated and occupied,  haunted and unhoused,  the self multiplied and scattered,  cellular memories rampant and contradictorily on the loose inside the mind and body of a person,  and he presents this story as generic in our time: The Influence Machine was no less than a mise en scene of contemporary existence, in his words, a psycho-landscape.

The artist took his title from a machine invented in l706 by  a student of Isaac Newton called Francis Hauksbee, which consisted of a globe which spun, crackling and sparking as it did so. But more particularly, the title echoes a celebrated article by    Victor Tausk, from 1918,  delivered in Vienna, to the Psychoanalytical Society       about  several patients diagnosed as schizophrenic, who believed they were under the influence of some machine and suffered from hallucinations, locutions, a despairing sense of losing control of their own being: ŒThe schizophrenic influencing machine, writes Tausk, is a machine of mystical nature. The patients are able to give only vague hints of its construction. It consists of boxes, cranks, levers, wheels, buttons, wires, battereies, and the likeŠ The main effects Š areŠ It makes the patients see pictures. .. It produces, as well as removes, thoughts and feelings by means of waves or rays or mysterious forcesŠ In such cases, the machine is often called a Œsuggestion-apparatus.. The machine serves to persecute the patient and is operated by enemiesŠı

The cases Tausk described  were among the first of their kind to be analysed; the paper is a classic of psychoanalytical literature alongside Daniel Paul Schreberıs Memoirs of My Nervous Illness (1903) , in which a High Court judge from  in Germany         recalled his mental agony, breakdowns and hospitalisation over a period of  some twenty years at the turn of the century. Scheberıs long, minutely detailed. Perfect simulacrum of a calmly rational memory act, was cited enthusiastically by Freud, Jung and, more recently, Gilles Deleuze, as the most remarkable personal testimony of derangement.  Technologies which were then newly developed reproduce some of the metaphysical manifestations of  visionariesı and mysticsı  experiences in the past. For instance, Joan of Arc said at her trial that Œthe voice comes in the lightı,  while Schreber maintained that ŒApart from normal human language there is also a kind of nerve-language Š that is to say a human being causes his nerves to vibrate Šin my case, however Š my nerves have been set in motion from without incessantly and without any respite.ı

The stories of patients whose work was seen recently in the travelling show of the Prinzhorn collection,  also often invokes new technologies ­ X-rays, radio, telegraphy ­ to account for experiences of double or triple personality, of voices  (locutions, in the theological phrase)  overheard that direct the sufferer, of possession and trance.   Beyond the boundaries of mental disturbance, in established religious practice, similar metaphors are also used to describe connections with inspiration and the divine:   in Baptist ceremonies of glossolalia, otherwise known as speaking in tongues, for instance, Godıs messages come down the Œheavenly telephoneı. But the question of madness on the one hand, or  spiritualist or other supernatural belief systems on the other does not arise within the boundaries set by Ourslerıs work, because it doesnıt make claims to represent something that the artist has experienced exclusively, or to which he has some kind of special access: Oursler isnıt claiming to be  a magus.  Heıs a child of the television age, and television, his art implies, has become the influencing machine on all our minds and it is also the new afterlife, where the past meets the future and turns into an ever repeating, eternal present: ŒTelevision archives store millions of images of the dead, which wait to be broadcast...............to the living....at this point, the dead come back to life to have an influence............on the living...Television is, then, truly the spirit world of our age. it preserves images of the dead which then can continue to haunt us.......it also gives us the phenomenon of living ghosts, or stars as we like to call them Šı

 

When Emily Dickinson writes, "one need not be a Chamber/  to be haunted" sheıs actually positing ­ after the Fox sisters and after the incredibly vital and international movement of spiritualism, the idea that we are basically haunted in our heads. The problem is ­ and Tony Oursler works within this tradition ­ how do you visualise this haunting? Itıs all very well to say; "the spectres are in our heads", what do they look like? If theyıre in our head, what form do they take, this is the basic sort of artistic enterprise, the basic poetic enterprise: how do we give them what Shakespeare calls Œa local habitationı? What is the language of the invisible?

Some consistent themes recur in visual and poetic metaphors that evoke spirit.  One is insubstantialness and vapourousness: the amorphousness of clouds, the shifting of phantoms in the light.The rainbow for example provides one of the earliest images of soul : a  diaphanous phenomenon, there, but not there at the same time. When Dante meets the the shadows of the dead, he turns to Virgil and he asks how is it that he can speak to them, when they have not yet been reunited with their bodies?  How is it that he can see them at all? What are they? What is their form? So Virgil explains the condition of the shade before the resurrection of the flesh, following the implied metaphor of light and expanding it into a phenomenological account of light's properties, as in a rainbow, as in fire:

e come l'aere, quand'e ben piorno,

per l'altrui raggio che 'n se si reflette,

di diversi color diventa adorno;

cosi l'aere vicin quivi si mette

in quella forma che in lui suggella

virtualmente l'alma che ristette;

e simigliante poi alla fiammella

che segue il foco la 'vunque si muta,

segue lo spirto sua forma novella.

Pero che quindi has poscia sua paruta

e chiamata ombra...'

(Purg. 25, ll. 94-101)

(' and as the air, when it is full of rain, becomes adorned with various colours through another's beams that are reflected in it, so the neighbouring air sets itself into that form which the soul that stopped there stamps upon it by its power, and then like the flame that follows the fire wherever its shifts, its new form follows the spirit. Since it has by this its semblance henceforth, it is called a shade...')

So the metaphor of the rainbow, or the flame,  light hanging in moving air was, that long ago - 700 years ago-  was already one of the ways in which the idea of spirit or shade was visualised.

But one of the things that happened with Spiritualism, to which Tony Ourslerıs work also connects, is that, for the Spiritualists summoning a spectacle of the realms beyond the apprehensible world was not sufficient. The sense of sight did not satisfy; people wanted to hear the dead in some kind of material way and they also wanted to hear and feel the presence of other life forms, dead and undead.

Oursler follows in this investigative tradition: he is a Seventies child, of television and telephone and satellites and cable,  and the polyphonic aural universe fascinates him as deeply as visual signals. He is listening in and collecting the evidence of the senses in the altered conditions of consciousness that now obtain.  He is registering and transmitting the noise inside the brain and out : the crackling and sparking of consciousness, including the individual unconscious alongside interstellar frequencies,  with all the gibberish and distortions,  interference and jumbled frequencies that past models of self have screened out.  Here for instance are the words the head  projected onto the smoke spoke in Soho Square:  Šout of the light

itıs dark in here

come out

come out of the dark

you can see me

you can see right through me

I'm not here

you are not here Š

Then again, later, the babble and mutterings turns to the imagery of computer communication crossed with metaphors of illness that codify its functions. The result achieves a sound poem that take the Dada nonsense tradition, in the direction of  psychological portraiture:

Œ you catch me like a virus from a sound from a bird from its voice through the air from a bug caught inside, inside you, I can hide, let me hide, inside, Iıll be quiet. Iıll be watchingŠ

you catch me like a virus from the light through the lens through the eye through the air POOF! I am no longer there

air flare electromagnetic radiation shifting higher and higher Š

victims of vexing vapors charge discharge empty thoughts wash windy flat wandering

light sensitivity of the eye, visual purple ha ha ha itıs ok now purple come out purple inside inside out

 

the dark side

 

Ourslerıs mimicry of  séance ramblings surpasses most of the originals that have been recorded; yet the effect is so accomplished, so apparently authentic, and his collaboratorsı performance so convincing that it was only when I read the transcripts that I realised he had made them up, that he had created a collage of quotes and samplings and historical data about the history of disembodiment.   In his statement about The Influence Machine, he observes:  Œ Telecommunication systems such as the internet are the end product of a long drive towards the current paradox of mind/body separationŠ This paradox of the dis-corporative impulse, the shedding of the physical body for the ethereal utopian virtual presence and the promises of ultimate interconnectivity is at once linked to the fear of the void, isolation, and  disassociative conditions. Š Today when the average person finds themselves increasingly engaged with mimetic systems, as they move from telephone to television to internet, and back again, the metaphor of the uncanny technological equation between life and death is all the more relevant.ı

Several writers of fiction , starting in Victorian era and continuing today, propose a form of personality which utterly breaks with the Judaeo-Christian compact of body and soul in the idea of the person and works instead with the idea that individuals can become possessed by someone else. In Spiritualism, they not only become subject to a Œspirit controlı, but the spirit control might then itself embody the ghosts of another person. So there are multiple layers of personality that happen within the spiritualist séance, and which fed the multiple personality definitions of quite recent psychology;  Tony Oursler has long been fascinated by Multiple Personality Disorder, not only as a clinical condition but a state of consciousness that might be available to everyone through trance, performance, inspiration.

Margaret Atwoodıs compelling novel, Alias Grace , is set against a Spiritualist background in Canada and the United States,  at the start of psychoanalysis there; itıs the story of the most famous Canadian murderess, who was 16 in l863 when she killed two people, and it proposes, highly convincingly through the sheer narrative power of the writing, that she was actually led by the ghost of a dead friend to avenge her and commit the crimes. Alias Grace , with its doubling title, depends on belief in spirit possession and multiple personality seen through the lens of nineteenth century psychology.

The second work of fiction that is remodelling the notion of the integrated self, is the fantasy epic in three books called His Dark Materials , by Philip Pullman. Theyıre written for older children (though adults can certainly read them and enjoy them) and they constitute a truly remarkable act of political and moral imagination:  they feature magical instruments of knowledge, such as the alethiometer, a kind of astrolabe which tells the truth, issues warnings and makes cryptic prophecies.  The second volume in the triology is called The Subtle Knife, and this tool is again a new scientific medium of discovery, a knife which cuts through air and opens a door into a parallel universe, which is actually existing at the same time as the universe weıre in now.

In one sense, this is of course what happens when you watch television ­ youıre in a parallel universe.  Phillip Pullman has simply transformed,  into a mystical and most enthralling physical adventure, the way we live now, our co-existence with technological phantoms in virtual spaces, who have been conjured by digital and other means. The phenomenon, unprecedented in human existence,  presents the most profound and difficult philosophical conundrum of our times, unsettling long established notions of reality and our relationship to it.

Tony Ourslerıs work, which is using the new media and  new concepts of physics and psychology, is continuing the inquiries of a long and great tradition of natural magic. But there has been another shift, since Robertson created the phantasmagoria in Paris in the l790s:  whereas he believed he was throwing light, in the spirit of the new age, on the processes by which superstitious credence in miracles and devils and spectres  had duped people, the new spectres now have regained their mystery, though it is of course no longer framed in religious terms. And,  as one of Tony Ourslerıs apparitions says: ŒIt sure is dark out hereı